


Artistic Like A Jackson Pollack Painting

by Thats_Amore



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Blood, Chorea, Disabled Character, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hetalia Countries Using Human Names, M/M, Minor Injuries, Nationverse, POV South Italy (Hetalia), Valentine's Day, internalized ableism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:09:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29300187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thats_Amore/pseuds/Thats_Amore
Summary: Romano tries to make a Valentine’s Day card for his boyfriend, but his chorea makes that more difficult than it should be.
Relationships: America/South Italy (Hetalia)
Kudos: 11





	Artistic Like A Jackson Pollack Painting

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the “Bloody Valentine” prompt for Day 1 of hetaliancupid-hetaliaevent on tumblr. Credit to luca-talia on tumblr for the headcanon Romano might still have some symptoms of chorea as an adult. For this story, I didn't get into the other medical issues Romano might have if he were a human with Huntington's chorea, which is the most common form in real life. I did some research on chorea for this story, but I can't promise that my depiction is accurate.

Romano had spent a couple of hours making an elaborate Valentine’s Day card for America. It was slow progress, and the end result wouldn’t be nearly as good as something Veneziano could make, but he wanted to spend the time making something special for his boyfriend. And so far, he was fairly satisfied with his efforts.

But as he was cutting a small heart out a sheet of patterned card stock paper, a familiar tremor went through Romano’s hands, the same tremor that had made it so hard to clean for Spain when he was a little kid. His chorea had gotten a little better over the years, but it had never completely gone away. It was worse when he was stressed out, but it could strike Savino at other times too, in a way he could never control or predict. Romano’s grip on the scissors slipped, and he accidentally sliced directly into his palm. He wasn’t able to push the chair back from the desk before he bled all over the Valentine’s Day card he had been making for Alfred.

“Porca Madonna!” he shouted, tears springing to his eyes as he cradled his injured hand close to his chest. Savino tried not to hate himself for his disability, but sometimes it was difficult. When the chorea made him break something or ruin something he had been working so hard on, Romano felt weak and useless.

A few seconds later, America, who had been visiting him for the upcoming holiday, burst into his study. “Vinny, what happened?! You don’t normally curse the Virgin Mary.”

“I ruined your Valentine’s Day card,” Romano told him. His lower lip wobbled as he stared down at the card, now streaked with blood like something out of the kind of gory slasher film that would give Alfred nightmares if he saw it. He had made it so ugly, when he had only wanted to make something beautiful with his own hands to show America how much he cared about him. He really couldn’t do anything right.

Alfred stepped in close to see the injury Savino had been trying to hide. “Oh, honey, did you hurt yourself?”

“I was using the scissors, and I had a fit… I couldn’t take my hand away before the blood dripped onto your card. I’m sorry.”

Alfred crouched down to be on the same level as Savino. He glanced at the card, but only briefly, and kissed the side of his head. “I don’t care if my card got blood on it when my actual Valentine got hurt. We should go to the kitchen so I can help fix your hand for you.”

“That’s not really necessary,” Romano muttered. “It should heal soon enough on its own.” That was a benefit of being a nation, but his wound was still bleeding badly. Since he didn’t want to make an even worse mess with his blood, he stood up right after America did and started to walk with him to the kitchen. America put his hand on his back, and Romano leaned into his boyfriend slightly as they left the room.

“You don’t have to be this nice to me. I might hurt myself a lot, but I’m not made of fucking glass.” His disability did make him feel fragile, but Romano didn’t like showing weakness to others. Not even the people he loved and trusted.

“I know you’re not. You’re incredibly strong and brave to deal with something this difficult your whole life. I want to take care of you because I love you, not because I think you can’t take care of yourself.”

Romano teared up again, but this time, it was from gratitude instead of pain and disappointment. America’s voice was sincere, and Savino could tell that Alfred actually meant what he was saying.

“Sappy idiota,” he murmured fondly. Alfred chuckled at his comment, and he was still smiling by the time they entered the kitchen.

America guided them both over to the sink. Alfred quickly washed his hands, and then Savino carefully rinsed out his wound. Alfred helped him clean the area around his wound with soap and water, and then he dried Romano’s hand with a clean towel before he stooped down to collect the first aid kit Romano kept for kitchen-related accidents (which unfortunately, happened to him sometimes, even if cooking relaxed him and made a chorea related incident less likely).

America retrieved ointment from the first aid kit and gently applied it to Romano’s wound. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

Romano shrugged. “It hurts a hell of a lot less than cutting open my own hand did.”

Savino watched as Alfred used a ridiculous amount of gauze to wrap his hand. “Are you trying to fuckin’ mummify me or something, idiota?”

“Nah. But you would look pretty cute as a mummy.” The asshole winked, probably just because he knew it would make Romano’s face turn red. Then, after he was done wrapping his hand, America lifted it up and pressed a kiss over the gauze-covered wound. “There. A kiss to help you feel better.”

Romano grinned slyly. “You know, my lips are feeling sore too, caro.”

America squinted at him in confusion for a few seconds, and then he grinned once he stopped interpreting Romano’s statement so literally. “Oh, you’re saying you want me to kiss you.”

Romano laughed. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”

Alfred was still holding onto his injured hand as he leaned down to kiss Savino sweetly. Savino reciprocated for a few seconds before Alfred pulled away to brush his lips over the fingers of Savino’s injured hand.

“I love your hands, Savi. Even if they don’t always act the way you want them to.” He pressed another kiss over the injured palm before he let his hand go.

Savino smiled a little in spite of himself. “I love you too.” He sighed. “If my hand’s not better by tomorrow, I guess I’ll have to go out and buy you a Valentine’s Day card.”

Alfred shrugged. “You don’t have to. I’d be perfectly happy with the card you made for me.”

“Really? Even with the blood splatter?”

“Sure. I mean, it’s not like red doesn’t fit for Valentine’s Day. And splattering can be totally artistic— like a Jackson Pollack painting.”

Romano snorted. “Only you would find blood splatter artistic.”

“And only _you_ would make an awesome looking card and then worry about the fact you got blood on it instead of the fact that you injured yourself.”

Savino frowned as he considered the card he had left in his study. “I wasn’t even finished yet.”

“Well, if you insist, you can finish it up later. But for now, I think you should take a break and cuddle with me on the couch in the living room. That can be your pre-Valentine’s Day gift to me.”

Romano rolled his eyes as America grabbed his hand that hadn’t been mummified and started to pull him towards the living room. “You’re a cheap date, Fredo.”

“I just know what I want. And right now, I want to spend time with you and make you feel better.”

Savino sat down on the couch next to Alfred, who immediately wrapped an arm around him. He watched the television, which was playing a program with subtitles he obviously didn’t need since he knew Italian fluently.

When he glanced up at America a few minutes later, Alfred was staring down at him sappily, completely ignoring the show he had been watching earlier. Romano smirked to himself, nuzzled into his idiota’s neck, and decided that he could wait to finish his bloody Valentine’s Day card later.

**Author's Note:**

> Crossposted on tumblr here: https://thatsamericano.tumblr.com/post/642601831626932224/artistic-like-a-jackson-pollack-painting


End file.
